


Crimson Fate

by Chocoholic221B



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: I feel like I've betrayed Pairo for some reason, I know nothing about vampires, Kuroro and Kurapika are childhood friends, Loosely based on Owari No Seraph, M/M, Please Don't Kill Me, Vampire AU, Vampire Kuroro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocoholic221B/pseuds/Chocoholic221B
Summary: After a devastating virus wipes out most of the population over the age of 13, young Kurapika and Kuroro are accepted under the protection of the Vampires. However, there's a price to the Vampires' kindness. In exchange for safety from the epidemic, the humans they save are to become blood donors. One day, Kuroro and Kurapika are separated, and Kurapika vows to bring him back. Little does he know, Kuroro's been going through some changes lately.





	Crimson Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unreadable0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unreadable0/gifts), [KuroKura Discord](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=KuroKura+Discord).



> This is for the prompt "Things You Didn't Say At All" for Unreadable0. Now it's a multi-chapter fic. Yet another one. Also, if you have any requests or prompts to be fulfilled, do send me an ask on Tumblr. My username is islandsofbooks. Kurapika is also OOC in this because I was channeling the younger version of him in the official one-shots. He'll get more canon-like as we get deeper into the story.

**Crimson Fate:**

 

As children, Kuroro and Kurapika were inseparable. Kurapika followed the older boy like a puppy following the hand that feeds it. Kuroro, in turn, was mildly over-protective of his puppy. Anyone who laid a hand or said a word against Kurapika would soon find themselves hospitalized for several months, brought to the edge of death itself by a twelve-year-old boy. 

Their parents had all died of the virus, leaving Kurapika and Kuroro in the hands of the orphanage with all the other kids who had lost their parents to it. Kuroro had stopped fearing the virus long ago, but Kurapika was still haunted, having watched his parents be devoured by the sickness. Kuroro would often slip under the covers of Kurapika’s bed in the dead of night and hold the boy to him, singing a lullaby close to his ear to calm him down. He didn’t remember where he learned the lullaby. Maybe, it was something his own mother sang to him before she died, or one of the orphanage ladies sang it to the younger kids. His mother had succumbed to the virus when Kuroro was just a baby, and for this he was grateful. He had no memories of her sickness like Kurapika. This gave him the ability to comfort the boy on nights where his dreams become nightmares, which was every night.

Then, the Vampires came to collect all children under the age of thirteen, promising protection from the virus. But their protection came with a price. They wanted the children to become blood donors. As soon as word got around that the Vampires would be making rounds to all the homes in their neighborhoods, Kurapika was determined not to have the kids in his orphanage become blood bags. Kuroro went along with it because he was worried they wouldn’t make it out on their own. They didn’t. They couldn’t even make it through the door.

A man had loomed in the doorway. No, not a man. A Vampire. His skin was pale as moonlight, and he had bright, candy red hair slicked back like frosting on a cupcake. There were tattoos on his cheeks, one of a raindrop and another of a star, right under glowing, gold eyes. He was dressed in a white and gold military uniform, his coat held around his shoulders by tassels because he hadn’t bothered to wear it like a normal Vampire.

“My, my ~” he purred, those prowling eyes taking them in. “It seems we have a rebellion on our hands.”

A man with long, dark hair pushed the clown aside, gave them one long, emotionless look, and said, “Capture them. Alive.”

Kurapika held onto Kuroro’s hand like a steel trap the whole time, refusing to let go when one of the vampires came up to handcuff him. He ended up handcuffing them together. Kurapika seemed satisfied with this. 

They piled them into one of those police vehicles where they put groups of convicted criminals, pricking them with needles as they went.

“It’ll be alright,” Kuroro had reassured them, but by this time most of the children had succumbed to the sedative the Vampires had used on them. Kurapika remembered though, as he dozed off with his head on Kuroro’s shoulder, and as Kuroro placed his head on Kurapika’s as he too began to feel drowsy. “It’ll be alright tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow came, and Kurapika woke up in a room that wasn’t filled with noisy children and the distinct smell of the cinnamon candles Kuroro liked to leave out from time to time. Kuroro wasn’t there either. Kurapika had forgotten how lonely it could get without him. This feeling of loneliness was only amplified by the enormous room he’d woken up in. The walls were bare and white. All the furniture was painted white, or off-white, or beige. It hurt his eyes a bit. There was one bay window, also painted white, with beige pillows laid out on the ledge. Drapes obscured the view, however, and he didn’t feel like opening them. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything. It was probably a side effect of the sedative.

The door to the bedroom opened, and in the doorway stood Kuroro with a tray filled with food and a Vampire lady who was holding the door open for him. Kuroro looked like he wanted to run to him, but instead, he entered slowly, calmly. The Vampire closed the door, as Kuroro put the food down on the nightstand beside Kurapika’s bed. 

“I got you some french toast, made just the way you like it,” he said, sitting down on the bed with a plate of hot french toast in his hand. It smelled delicious, like cinnamon and sugar and freshly baked bread. Kurapika took it and started to cut a piece off with his fork. He popped it in his mouth. Kuroro asked if it tasted good, wrapping an arm around him now and pulling him closer. He always did that when he could tell Kurapika was upset. 

Kurapika nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat along with the toast. His eyes watered, but he blinked and they were back to normal. 

“It’s funny,” Kuroro started, conversationally. “They need us to be healthy so they can get the best blood out of us, so they end up feeding us with the best foods from around the world. I think we’ll like that part at least.” 

Kurapika swallowed again, his hand shaking around the fork. He wouldn’t like anything about this place. Nothing. “We’re livestock to them.” 

Kuroro pulled him even closer, and Kurapika noticed that he still smelled like those cheap cinnamon candles from home. Despite his new clothes being gifts from the Vampires, and the fact that there was a new, citrusy scent clinging to him now. Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes again, blurring his vision.

“We’ll be fine,” Kuroro whispered, again, stroking his hair. “We’ll be alright. As long as we’re together.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurapika managed, between sobs, “that I couldn’t get us out.” 

“It’s alright, Kura. It’s alright.” 

“No, it’s not!” he cried.

“We’re still alive, aren’t we?” Kuroro said, wiping his tears away. “As long as we’re alive we’ve got a chance.”

“How long do you think they’ll keep us alive?” Kurapika asked. 

“Long enough.”

They kept them alive for five years and probably would’ve for longer if Kurapika hadn’t noticed Kuroro’s preference for long-sleeved turtle-necks. Kurapika had yet to be escorted to a Vampire’s quarters, which was usually a glorified way of saying you were going to be their dinner for the evening. Kuroro had assured him that he was experiencing a similar situation. He began to think that maybe they had bad blood or something, ignoring all the signs in favor of unwavering trust. Then, one day, Kurapika walked in on him as he was changing into his evening wear. He had wanted to tell him something. It slipped his mind as soon as he saw the state of his neck and arms, replaced by furious cursing. There were so many of them, like a rash of mosquito bites. Teeth marks, dozens more than even the highest prized blood donors.

“Kurapika,” Kuroro greeted, cheerfully, taking one of his dress shirts off its hanger. He had yet to notice that he was completely exposed. “Just in time. I was thinking we could go out tonight and grab a bite to eat . . .”

Kurapika walked up to him, fuming, and took his arm, which was speckled with puncture wounds. “What are these?”

Kuroro jerked his arm back, turning away from him and shrugging on the dress shirt, concealing the bite marks on his arm. He walked over to his bed and picked his wallet up from the drawer beside it. “Nothing. So, are you coming, or not?”

“Did that bastard give them to you?” Kurapika snapped, close behind him.

“We are not having this conversation right now,” Kuroro replied, smoothly, coldly, with that same cutting tone he used to verbally destroy his enemies. Kurapika didn’t back down.

“Were you planning to keep this a secret forever?” Kurapika asked. Kuroro stiffened, trying to calm himself down. 

“No, just until you found out.” He started to button up his shirt, moving towards the door. “Until that moment, I didn’t want you to be a part of this.”

“But I am.” He pulled him back, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I’m one of their blood bags, too. Even if I’ve never been bitten. I still have to live with them knowing I’m just their food. Whatever this is, I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” Kuroro said. “I just don’t think you have to.” 

Kurapika clenched his jaw and averted his eyes, his heart drumming in his ear. Kuroro’s room was identical to his own, except Kuroro had gotten rid of his drapes long ago for a darker color. He rarely had his whole window covered up, and the view from the room looked over the courtyard. Candy red hair caught his eye and Kurapika grabbed onto a shot at revenge. 

“Kurapika, no,” Kuroro warned, following his gaze. Kurapika made a beeline for the door, guided by his impulses and fury, only to be thrown onto the bed by his best friend. “Are you insane?” 

“I won’t let them treat you like this,” Kurapika seethed.

Kuroro was on top of him now, straddling his waist and holding his arms up above his head. Kurapika tried not to think of how close they were, or the fact that if he just picked his head up a bit their lips would meet. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“I refuse to believe that.” He struggled beneath him, and that only made the other boy strengthen his hold on him. “Let go.” 

“No.” 

“Why do you always do this?” Kurapika demanded. “You always tell others what they can and cannot do, and yet you break every rule you set for others! You’re just a hypocrite!” 

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have to!” 

“Then, tell me what they’re holding over you! Tell me why you have to be a blood bag for that bastard every night!”

Kuroro let his forehead touch Kurapika’s. “Kura, Kura, please.” 

Kurapika relented, his face softening at his tone. He heard it once before when they were about to escape the orphanage. 

“Okay,” he whispered, leaning into his touch and closing his eyes. “But no more secrets after this, agreed?”

Kuroro’s hands loosened around his wrists, and Kurapika’s waist was no longer being straddled. “I’m just glad we -”

Kurapika didn’t let him finish. He was out the door within seconds. There were pink marks on his wrists now, left over from the bedroom, but he ignored them. He caught another glimpse of Lord Hisoka’s stupid hair and figured out the quickest route to the courtyard. He could hear Kuroro’s frantic footsteps behind him. The boy called his name a few times, too, but Kurapika had only one objective now. As soon as he was within reach of the man, he pulled his arm back and punched him in the stomach. The bastard even stumbled back a bit, even though Kurapika was certain he’d seen him coming. Prince Illumi stood next to them and watched with disinterest as Kurapika delivered blow after blow. A punch in the face here, a kick in the gut there. He didn’t want any excuses.  He wanted to see him in pain.

He was pulled back eventually, and not by Kuroro, who stood a few feet away, shell-shocked and slightly impressed. Two of Hisoka’s bodyguards stood behind him, holding him by the arms. 

“Well, if it isn’t Kuroro’s dear friend,” Hisoka chimed, his finger tilting Kurapika’s head up a bit. “My, how you’ve grown.” His fingers slid down to his neck, tracing his veins. “Was it worth it, kitten?”

Kurapika didn’t reply, but it was. He’d wanted to punch this bastard since the day they met. 

Hisoka chuckled, brushing his hair behind his ear. “You know what the punishment for attacking one of us is, don’t you, kitten?” 

They drink your blood until you pass out, or die, depending on who you attack. Hisoka licked his lips. 

_ Alright then, bite me. Let me understand what Kuroro’s been dealing with this whole time. Maybe then, he’ll treat me like an equal, instead of a little brother. _

Hisoka’s fangs pressed against the skin above his jugular vein. Kurapika shut his eyes.

“WAIT!” Kuroro called out, finally broken out of whatever trance he’d been in. Hisoka paused, a smile curling on his lips, and faced Kuroro. 

“Yes, little one?” Hisoka prompted. Letting go of Kurapika to instead ruffle Kuroro’s hair. Kurapika wanted to lash out at the man again, curse him, cut him up into tiny pieces and toss him into a river. Not that it would matter. He’d just heal up and come back to torment them. 

“I believe this is something we should discuss before coming to a final verdict.” What verdict? Kurapika tried to get a good look at Kuroro's face but could only see a fraction of it, not nearly enough to get an idea of what was going on in his head. 

Hisoka hummed. “Quite right, little one.” He waved his hand, and Kurapika was instantly released. “Would you like to talk this over during dinner?” 

Kuroro agreed, though his attention had already returned to Kurapika, whom he was already hauling back to the house.

They returned to Kuroro’s bedroom, and Kuroro sat him down in the armchair near his desk.

“Did they hurt you anywhere?” He asked, checking his neck for signs of blood, running his hands up and down the length of his arms. “Are you feeling dizzy? Sick? Do you want me to bring you some chocolate to raise your blood sugar?”

Kurapika rolled his eyes and shrugged his hands off. “I’m fine, Kuroro. I’m not a kid anymore.” 

“You’re a human,” Kuroro refuted, brushing his cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re so reckless, Kura. It scares me sometimes. What were you even planning on doing? Punching him around a bit, then being drunk dry of blood?”

Kurapika peered down at his lap. “Something like that.” 

“You blanked out again, didn’t you?” 

“A little bit,” Kurapika replied, feeling embarrassed now that it was over.

Kuroro stood and sighed, “well, now thanks to your blanking out, I am stuck in a rather awkward position. You better repay me later, kitten.” 

Kurapika cringed. “Don’t call me that.”

The boy crossed his arms and pouted, murmuring, “Lord Hisoka can. I want to call you cute nicknames, too.”

“Call me something less creepy then,” Kurapika retorted.

There was a knock on the door and Kuroro said he was coming. He gave Kurapika one more once-over and then left him there. A feeling of unease swept over him, but Kurapika pushed it down. Kuroro would be back soon to chase all his worries away.

* * *

 

He didn’t return until past midnight when Kurapika had already fallen asleep. Kurapika awoke to the feeling of a hand sweeping back his bangs. He shifted, still half-asleep, trying to force his eyes open. 

“Roro?” he murmured, blearily. “What’re you doin’ here?” 

Kuroro laid down beside him beneath the sheets, finding Kurapika’s hand and holding on tight. “Had a nightmare.”

Kurapika hummed, pressing their foreheads together. “You never get nightmares.”

“Guess I’m not as immune to them as I thought.” Kuroro’s face had always had a distant sheen to it, like Kuroro was calculating a million other things in his head, perpetually managing to maintain some semblance of sanity while the rest of them went mental. Now, Kurapika glimpsed something completely different in his face.  _ Fear.  _ Pure terror. 

“Did he drink a lot of your blood,” Kurapika asked, letting go of his hand in favor of wrapping an arm around him. “Do you feel alright? You look scared.”

“Kura . . .” he trailed off, conflicted now. He buried his face in Kurapika’s shoulder. “Just a little tired. It took longer than usual. I think he was hungry after almost biting you. You . . . you have good quality blood, apparently.”

“Did you do all this so they wouldn’t feed off me?” Kurapika prodded, fingers mingling with his hair. 

“I did,” he said, finally. They spent a few minutes in silence, breathing in each other’s scents because both of them could feel a goodbye lingering in the next hours.

“I know I should be thankful, but . . .” 

“You just feel insulted. I know,” Kuroro chuckled. “I would be, too, honestly. I suppose, in a way, I wanted to keep you to myself.”

“It’s not like they would own me.”

“They could, if they wanted to,” Kuroro muttered, darkly, a possessive edge to his voice. “A vampire can claim you as prey so the rest stay away. It’s rather like marking their territory. It hurts like hell, too.”

“Did the clown bastard claim you?” Kurapika asked. Great, now he was feeling possessive as well.

Kuroro rolled up his sleeve and held it up, lying on his back now. Kurapika couldn’t make anything out, but he knew it was there. The wound from the time Hisoka claimed him. 

“Didn’t even bother checking if my blood was as good as he expected. First feeding, he claimed me. They have venom, you know. It hurts us when it first comes in contact with our blood, then the pain dies out after an hour or so. It’s lethal to other Vampires, though,” Kuroro explained. Kurapika held back a shiver at the bitterness in his voice. “He wanted to claim you too. Was planning on feeding on you the very next day.” He let his arm fall back on the bed. His eyes remained glued to the ceiling. “But I wouldn’t let him. We struck a deal. I give him all the blood he desires, not just the legal limits, and he leaves you alone.”

Kurapika hugged him, pressing his cheek to his. “Thank you.”

“No.” Kuroro shook his head. “Don’t thank me. It was mostly me being selfish. It’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d tear through agreement immediately. You wouldn’t stand for that. And I couldn’t stand you becoming someone else’s food. Even though I let myself become that.” 

“For me.” 

“For you,” Kuroro agreed. 

“And now you’re in even more trouble because of me,” Kurapika grumbled.

Kuroro turned his face so their noses were touching. “I am.”

Kurapika groaned, shifting to stare at the ceiling as well, arms spread out. “Now I feel like I’m useless  _ and  _ indebted to you.”

“Shall we discuss the subject of payment, then?” Kuroro teased, propping himself up one elbow.

“Go for it,” Kurapika sighed, resigned to his fate. 

Kuroro seemed to consider his options for a few minutes. Kurapika just glared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure why. The ceiling had done nothing to deserve such hostility. 

“Kiss me.” 

“Huh?” Kurapika was certain he’d heard wrong. There was no way Kuroro had said  _ that. _ They weren’t in that type of relationship, nor would they ever be. Sure, Kurapika had thought of it before, but it was only a couple times . . . a day. Alright, he considered it quite a bit, but he thought it was obvious that they wouldn’t suit each other. Sure, they were great as friends, but as a couple, they wouldn’t last a day. They weren’t even attracted to each other or anything. 

“Kiss me,” he said again, casually this time, as if he was asking Kurapika to buy him lunch tomorrow.

Oh, he probably meant on the cheek or something. It was just more of his teasing. Kurapika rolled his eyes and slid closer to him, pressing his lips to his cheek. There. Debt repaid.

“I keep you safe from years under a clown’s servitude, and this is how you thank me?” Kuroro scoffed. “I should double your debt. I, for one, am insulted.”

Kurapika recoiled at the rebuttal, sitting up. “Well, I’m not going to just kiss kiss you.”

“Why not?” Kuroro mirrored his position. 

“Because - because we’re not like that. We’re just friends,” Kurapika stressed. 

He could tell Kuroro rolled his eyes at that moment. “As if you’ve never thought about it as well.” 

“I haven’t!” Kurapika continued. “I’m sorry if you took it the wrong wa -”

“You’re the most touchy friend I’ve ever had, then, Kura,” Kuroro said, lying back down. “Really, we hold hands more than any couple I’ve ever known. We basically spend every other night together in bed. You beat up people you think are too dangerous to be around me in a fit of rage. How can you expect me not to take that the wrong way?”

Kurapika stayed silent, partly because he had nothing to say, partly because the frustration in Kuroro’s voice surprised him a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” Kuroro said, softly, his hands covering his face. “I just . . . hormones, I guess. I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“Just one, right?” Kurapika ran a hand through his honey-colored hair, wetting his lips, suddenly aware of how inadequate they were for kissing. Oh God, what if his breath smelled? 

“Unless you want more,” Kuroro teased. “You really don’t have to -” 

Kurapika pressed his lips to Kuroro’s, his eyes sealed shut. Their lips met in the middle for about three seconds. Then, he jolted away, burying his burning face in his equally burning hands.

_ Oh God. Oh God. Oh Hell, just let the Vampires drink me dry. That was a horrible kiss. What was I even thinking? My breath must smell so bad. I guess there go our chances. _

“Hey, Kura?”

He glanced at him from the gaps between his fingers. Kuroro didn’t look disgusted, as his worst case scenario self assumed. In fact, he looked ready for more.

“Can I kiss you?” 

Kurapika gazed down at the plain, white sheets that covered his lower half. He gulped, then nodded. 

Kuroro cupped his chin, pulling his face towards him, and the rest of his body shifted with the movement. The other boy was a far better kisser, and Kurapika guessed he’d been experimenting a lot more than Kurapika himself. 

“Another?” Kuroro asked, breaking the kiss just long enough for Kurapika to nod, though the boy was still out of breath. Then he dove back in with enough force to push them both back on the bed. 

“Another?”

They spent the rest of the night in a similar position, kissing, Kuroro occasionally teasing him. They went no further, though Kuroro almost snuck a hand under his shirt. Almost. Eventually, they settled for hugging, once both were dozing off, and Kuroro sang a lullaby. The one that used to calm Kurapika down as a child.

In the morning, Kuroro was gone. Kurapika didn’t bother searching for him. 

**. End of Chapter .**

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Thank you to my good friend AaminahLuna from the Krkr discord for coming up with the title. You were such a great help with this! 
> 
> 2) Alright, so most of this isn't even canonly vampire or Owari No Seraph, but like I borrowed stuff from both and don't wanna be sued for plagiarism. So, yeah. 
> 
> 3) This is also dedicated to Unreadable0. You've created a monster. 
> 
> 4) This started out as an ask and grew into something more
> 
> As always, do leave your thoughts below. I always enjoy hearing from you guys.


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